Emmy and the Top Ten Fantasy List
I married my wife, Emmy, just after college. We met as Freshmen and dated all four years. She was my first girlfriend and my only girlfriend. We both grew up in very rural parts of the country where there just weren't a lot of people or time for dating. We bonded over our shared background and I considered myself to be pretty lucky because she was smokin' hot by anyone's standards. She just didn't know it.
She took my virginity and I hers. To say that we were inexperienced would be an understatement.
I never miss the girls I never dated; never regretted getting hitched without sowing my wild oats. I love and adore my sweetie and couldn't imagine wanting another woman. Literally, I didn't even look at other women.
I did however, secretly obsess about what it would be like to suck a cock. I'm straight so I guess they call that bi-curious. Though I would never follow up on that thought, it was always stuck in the back of my mind making me doubt my sexuality.
Which brings me to this story I'm about to tell you. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon. Emmy was reading some woman's magazine and she looked up and said, "Do you have fantasies?"
I wasn't sure what she meant. I assumed she just meant any old fantasy, so I answered: "I dream we're lying on a tropical beach with the waves lapping at our toes."
"Go on..." She encouraged with a gleam in her eyes.
"We're sipping those drinks in the coconuts and getting all tan while we relax." I continued. Her face was nonplussed. Clearly I wasn't getting this right. I raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"This magazine says that everyone has fantasies. That couples have fantasies..." The realization of what she meant dawned on me. "Tell me yours." She went on.
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Then, composing myself, I said, "I guess I have the normal fantasies and stuff. What about you?" I couldn't bring myself to admit the truth.
She didn't look satisfied. "It lists the top ten and none of the sexual ones sound right. This one here, number 4, it's like it's just cops and robbers. I don't get the appeal."
I was happy to turn the subject away from my personal fantasy, so I offered, "Have you read them all? I'm sure there's something that makes them so popular."
Putting down the magazine she faltered, "I've skimmed the article. It says sex gets dull and old. Are...are you bored?"
She might as well have asked if I was bored with her because that's how she would interpret it if I said "yes." I answered with feigned confidence, "Not at all! Our sex life is great." It wasn't a lie. But then again, she didn't have a penis. She didn't even have one of those big clits you hear about, the ones that are two inches long and look like a little dick. I deflected back to her: "How 'bout you? Would you like to try something new? Just to spice it up. Like salt on a great steak."
She jumped up, kissing me on the cheek as she passed on her way to the bedroom. "I'm getting dressed. Tell me more over dinner - you're taking me out for steak." She was from Montana and always craved steak. I watched her shimmy out of her sweats and slip on a slinky dress, nude for far too short a time in between.
I eyed her up and down. She caught me and smiled. She was just as lithe and shapely as ever. Long brown hair. Perfect athletic calves. Amazing full tits. "Let's fool around first. You always turn me on."
She laid her hand on the side of my face, "Good! That's the way I like it. Not now though. Sex later - if you buy me dinner and treat me right." That was the rub. She had a thousand rules on what it meant to treat her right and they all seemed to conflict.
"I'm gonna do my make-up. You keep yourself busy while I get ready. Why don't you go read that magazine?" She turned her shapely body toward the bathroom
But I didn't get to it. I snuck in some video game time instead.
Half way through our meal she stabbed a piece of steak and shoved it in my face, "Taste it. Whaddya think?"
I chewed the steak musing, "Tender... no gristle...good... but it was better last time. It's too late to send it back. You've eaten most of it. And it's good. It just needs..." I tried to think of what it needed.
"Salt." She said. It's a good steak. It's a keeper. It just needs salt." I nodded. "She continued talking. (I can't say I always follow her line of reasoning. She did or didn't change the subject depending on what the subject actually was). "So, should we try one?
I had just stuffed a large piece of my own steak in my mouth. Whereas she had the Petite Sirloin I was trying hard to finish the King Prime Rib. I nodded and chewed. I was really only half paying attention.
"Which one?" She asked casually as if she wanted to know which dessert to order. And at first that's exactly what I thought she was asking. "The one with the costumes, or the one with the ties?"
I remembered I was supposed to have read the article, and instantly knew what Em was asking. I wondered what costume she meant? I didn't want to be dressed like cops and robbers, or worse, some giant teddy bear. And what would the ties be? Probably not neckties. If she wanted to, she could probably hogtie me in five seconds flat. But who would get tied? I had no desire to tie her up. If anything I wished she were more active in bed, not less.
I needed to pick something that wouldn't be stupid. Thinking quickly I answered, "The first one, everybody likes that one. There's a reason it's number one, right?."
She chewed her lip. "I guess so. If everyone likes it then it must be good. Well, maybe it's better for you than for me." Then she frowned.